Page 25 of Talk to Me
“You were never here, I have never seen you. And I just triple deleted the info.”
“Thank you.”
“Anytime, man. Anytime.” The music cranked up as I closed the door. Donnie wasn’t the easiest of men to get along with, but he’d worked for the NSA until he got himself booted for insubordination. Now, he freelanced for them so he didn’t go to jail or the office, and they didn’t have to put up with his crap.
I liked him.
For the most part.
He was no Patch.
It took time to get a flight to Denver. The whole time I kept turning over every iota of information I had on Patch. She’d been my handler for years. My operator. She could find anything, get me through so many doors, could and had bailed me out of situations gone wrong.
If she told me to duck, I’d be on the floor before the word cleared her lips. In all the time I’d known her, however, I’d learned very little about her.
She liked reality television shows.
Her favorite ice cream was strawberry.
Mornings were not her favorite time of day.
She functioned better at two in the morning after being awake twenty-four hours than she did rolling out of bed.
Video games were a weakness she couldn’t indulge when she was on the job.
Patience was a virtue she possessed in spades and nothing ever ruffled her. Whether it was talking me through security to get to a target or running the numbers and the routes to get me an escape path—she never tensed up.
The sexy, sweet voice wrapped around me like a lifejacket. As long as she was on the line, I was going to survive.
She hadn’t answered in days.
Thirteen hours after getting the name of the town, I followed the directions from Denver, that took me on a northwest path toward the mountains. The interstate slimmed down to a highway then to a state highway, then a two-lane road.
Civilization seemed to fall away. With Denver not that far behind me, the road twisted through suburban areas before it became rural. Or rural enough that the homes clung to the sides of mountain like goats on a perch. I couldn’t recall a time that I’d been to this state much less the city.
I’d certainly never been in these mountains. Still, I followed the route that took me through Boulder, then higher to a place called Lyons, and higher still on a path that would take me near the Rocky Mountain National Park entrance in Estes Park.
The only thing I knew about the quaint town was it happened to be the location of the Stanley Hotel which appeared in the Stephen King novel The Shining.
Good book.
Interesting movie.
Not remotely why I was here.
My ears kept popping on the drive up and the temperature outside dipped the higher I went. Fair enough. Estes Park itself wasn’t huge. Motels, hotels, restaurants, strip malls, and a quaint little “downtown” area with local shops and a Starbuck’s.
Not bad.
I pulled into the parking lot, pulled up my computer and hopped on the “free” WiFi that I could reach. Engaging the virtual firewall, I cloaked my activities and then entered the IP address from the VOIP.
It wouldn’t necessarily give me a street address, but it might get me close. Maybe. It was a long shot. Donnie had provided me with the program on a thumb drive.
The default window just sat there, cursor blinking as it said searching…
Attention divided between the screen and the area, I tried to see it as Patch did. Why here? Why would she base her work in a town that was higher up on a mountain, likely suffered from a lot of snow in the winter, and might even have to deal with supply chain issues.
Summertime probably brought a fuckload of tourists too. I suppose that wasn’t just limited to summer, still… what attracted her to this place?